Liam stared at the guns in his hands. They were cold, ugly things, and they seemed terribly heavy.

“I don’t...”

He stopped. He had been going to say that he didn’t want them, that she should take them back. He wanted to say that he didn’t have it in him to use them. But how else was he going to protect anyone; with words? Words wouldn’t help against the walking dead; all they would accomplish was a terrible death with a pretty speech on his lips. Standing there, Liam couldn’t see how he had ever thought otherwise. He exhaled slowly, and began buckling the holsters around his waist.

“I don’t want to mourn you, so I’ll take these,” he said finally, looking at Trista’s back as she stood paused in the doorway of her room. “I’m not going to let you get hurt anymore."

A crooked grin swept across Liam's face at Trista's words, the creasing around his eyes reflecting the genuine nature of the smile. He wasn't sure if she had been joking or not, her flat voice made it hard to tell, but it was something he wondered often enough himself that he could see the humour in it anyway. It was true that he was hardly the most well-equipped of the group when it came to survival skills, particularly when it came to thinking things out in advance. No wonder he'd never been any good at chess.

"Ridiculous amounts of luck, mostly," he replied, the grin clear in his voice as well. "And I know how to pick my friends."

His smile faltered after a moment more, and he unconsciously worried at his bottom lip with his teeth. He wasn't certain what to say next; he desperately wanted to try and bridge the gap that had been growing between them, but he still couldn't seem to find the words to do it. Liam stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket, frustration obvious on his features.

"Look," Liam began, then paused and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, as if looking for a script on the chipped plaster. "After we got hit and Mr. Matheson and Locke were killed I pretty much stopped talking to you, I shouldn't have. I wanted to say I was sorry for that, leaving you alone, I mean."

He lapsed into silence, certain he hadn't expressed himself at all coherently, but so be it. Liam didn't mention that he had stopped trying to talk to her because she had stopped trying to talk to him, but that wasn't much of an excuse in his book anyway. When someone else needed help, you didn't stop offering simply because they didn't want you to.

Following the direction of Billie’s nod, Liam looked around in time to see Trista turn and walk back down the hall away from the common room. He watched her go, the smile he had been wearing dwindling away to nothing as he watched the bandaged young woman heading back to her room. Not that long ago, Liam would have gone after her without a second though, desperate to find out what was wrong and how he could help.

Now though, he hesitated. He had barely tried to talk to Trista since the attack that had sent her back into the dark shell she inhabited, Liam knew it would be easier to just ignore her and get on with looking after himself.

As he considered that thought, Liam saw Ignot out of the corner of his eye and realised how stupid it was. The big man was probably the greatest example of what happened if you put your own interests ahead of anyone else’s. Cold blooded, calculating and utterly concerned with survival at any cost.

Liam set his mug down on the table, nodded sharply back to Billie and set off quickly down the hall after Trista. It was his nature to try and help people, he refused to become like Ignot. After all, he’d nearly gotten through to Trista before, so he could do it again.He wished he had the first idea what to say to her though.

Lowering his pack of salvage to the floor, Liam gratefully accepted a steaming mug from Kai. He sighed with relief as the delicious warmth spread through his numbed fingers. Looking around, he caught Billie's eye and offered her a half-smile, pleased to see the medic and her charges had made it back in one piece.

"Of course," Liam nodded to Bethany as he spoke. "It's up to you. We can't force you to come back with us."

That wasn't technically true, of course. They had the numbers and the weapons to do whatever they pleased with the three new survivors, but that was exactly the kind of situation Liam was trying to avoid.

Liam half turned and glanced over his shoulder at the doorway. He thought he'd heard Leland or Billie saying something, but he guessed they were probably talking to Alex or Ignot out in the hall. With a mental shrug, he turned back to Frank, Bethany and the kid and thought for a moment. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. He was about to do something that he wasn't sure Ignot, or some of the other survivors for that matter, would approve of.

"Look, I know you probably aren't feeling that trusting after the way we burst in, but I want you to hear me out."

Liam looked down at the floor for a moment and tried to figure out how he was going to put this in a way that would sound remotely appealing to a small group of frightened strangers. Then he lifted his eyes and met those of Frank and Bethany.

"We're staying in an old apartment out in the suburbs. Big place, a lot of empty rooms, and it's secure. You should come back with us. It's better defended than this place, we've got food and water and we could definitely fit in a few more people."

Liam trailed off lamely, he knew he hadn't made much a pitch given their first impression.